Letter from Staten Island

"I love the Hitachi you gave me, Dermot. It's much better than any vibrator I've ever experienced."

Ermine smiled at me, kittenishly.

She dove the Hitachi in question into her muff and moaned. I was tied to a chair, naked as always, watching this display.

I hoped that the purchase of the new vibrator might keep her out of other men's beds, at least for a little while.

Ermine dipped back her little shock of jet-black hair and moaned, and then looked at me, giggling. "Straight white men have this mournful look. You are so pitiful."

I tried not to cry, but it just seemed so futile.

Ermine tossed down the Hitachi wand and hopped off the bed.

She was such a lively little gamine, and I felt huge and lumbering when I was with her.

Ermine approached the chair in which I was bound and she sat on my lap, back on my knees so my penis was poking up between her legs and mine.

My Goth princess reached her long black nails (it was all black--nails, lips, hair. against deadly pale white skin) and rubbed the tip of my neglected cock.

Overcome with mirth over my bewildered look, Ermine kissed my neck and began grinding her crotch against my penis madly.

Sometimes I regretted renting a room to Miss Ermine Embers, failed singer and semi-successful shampoo girl, after all, I don't think she ever gave me a dollar of rent after the second month.

Ermine stuck her warm tongue in my ear, and further pushed her vagina onto my pulsing cock. Lifting her hips, she plopped just on the head, and tightened her twat.

Oh, it felt so tight. But she wouldn't go deeper! I so wanted her to go up and down on my member, and she just was bathing the tip.

I moaned and she jumped off, as if she'd been sitting on a frying pan.

"Wha-what's wrong?" Now my cock was cold again, stiff and waving like one of those tall inflated shapes in front of car dealerships.

"I just don't want you getting me all wet with your baby batter." Ermine said this severely, and she reached down and pinched the tip of my penis hard.

"Ooow!" Another tear came down my cheek, and this made Ermine smile.

"I just don't want you to get me preggers, Greg. I have three in foster care now."

But she smiled winsomely and slid back on my lap, rubbing one of her smooth thighs against my cock. I gasped, and she spun and began rubbing her full ass cheeks on my penis and snorted as I lifted my hips in a vain attempt to get friction.

"See, you are all about control here, Gregory. It's a big mistake. Why can't you just sit back and let me do my thing?"

Ermine rubbed her cheeks more on my fevered penis, and then she slid off and turned around, getting on her knees.

Separating my legs on the chair, Ermine moved in and leaned over, kissing the head of my cock. Then she kissed the side, just a little peck.

I began trembling with frustrated desire. Ermine kissed again and I shook harder.

Ermine bent down and licked the length of my cock, and I tried to shift up, to push my penis against her tongue, but of course she pulled away, laughing lightly.

"It's not a very big dick, is it, Greg?"

I hung my head. It was true. I wasn't well hung, as they say. Many girlfriends and two ex wives had always reassured me that size didn't matter, that I was a nice guy and that made up for everything.

But they always left, didn't they?

After Ermine had wrecked my car, with one of her loser boyfriends, I had threatened to throw her out, and she'd asked me who I would be waving my teeny weeny cock for then?

And of course I capitulated. It's the way things are...

Now Ermine nibbled the side of my frustrated organ and bit the foreskin just a little bit.

Then she flicked the tip of my cock with a sharp nail and giggled when I wept again.

"You live for this, don't you, Greg?"

I nodded, simultaneously miserable and ecstatic.

Ermine pulled back and held up her hand. Naked as the day she was born, Ermie did have a bunch of rubber bands around her wrist. Who knew why?

Now I did.

Ermine took a rubber band off her wrist, and stuck a thumb in it and pulled it back, shooting it at my crotch.

ZING! I screamed, the pain was---well, it was a sting. I am a bit of a baby. ZING! She shot another one and my cock wilted.

Ermine got up and I watched her little ass twitch adorably as she went to the night table and got a pack of Virginia Slims.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke in the damn house." I said lamely. She didn't clean up, she didn't pay for anything, and she'd run up bills on my Amex. Could she at least not smoke?

Ermine walked slowly and seductively back to me, her hips undulating. Dropping to her knees, she inhaled a lot of tobacco, and blew it in my face.

I coughed. I am very hygienic and a bit of a health nut.

Ermine flicked an ash from the long cigarette into my crotch and I squealed.

"It's like you're a Myna bird or something. Jesus, Greg, I remember guys like you back in school, the pocket protectors, the slide rules. Ugh."

Ermine used her non cigarette holding hand to play with the nipple of one of her small but shapely breasts.

"You like my nipples, Greg? A boyfriend once told me my areolas were a constellation of beauty."

"Yes," I breathed. When Ermine was feeling generous, she would let me worship her body with my tongue, and I often spent quite a bit of time on her tits.

This usually preceded her asking for a loan, or of course on rent day. She had now lived here for a year, basically free, but those boobs of hers were exquisite.

"Well, I'm tired now." Ermine pulled my bound form off the chair, and took the yardstick from the dresser.

"Please don't--"

WHACK! THWACK! SNAP!

My penis grew tiny, and Miss Ermine Embers went to get the chastity tube....

It would be another week of grinding chastity.

But I couldn't live any other way, could I?